Silence
by Cymoril Avalon
Summary: In the rush before the Battle City Finals, Malik kidnaps Shizuka and places her in his brother's hands for safe keeping. Rishid finds it increasingly hard to keep his feelings under lock and key and soon discovers trust is harder to chain than love. AU.


Disclaimer - We own NOTHING. NOTHING!

Author's Note - Cymoril has finally given in to the crack that is Rishid/Shizuka and started a collab with abbysarajane. Author's of each point of view should be rather obvious. Please, read and review! Reviews are the lifeblood of fanfiction authors, and lurkers are evil.

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The taste of blood was bitter in her mouth, almost nauseating. She could move, she discovered a few moments later, but she hurt so bad she almost wished she couldn't; every stretch, every twitch, felt like someone was brushing her skin with nettles. Swallowing heavily, she remained still for a time – seconds, minutes, hours, she had no way to tell – before she slowly opened her eyes.

The world swam in her vision, dark and clouded, sickening swirls of color that did not want to form anything solid. She felt ill, and with a groan, she closed her eyes and curled up on her side, cradling her head in her arms.

Her senses eventually cleared a little. She was resting on something soft, very smooth, almost like the finest sheets she could imagine. She could feel a myriad of bruises scattered along her body, her cheek felt tender, and the back of her head throbbed horribly. She felt as if she had been tossed about and mangled by a large piece of machinery. A small light tried to intrude on her half-conscious state, stabbing at her closed lids like white hot pokers. She curled up tighter with another groan, almost absently aware of something stroking her tangled hair.

She heard voices, muffled and distant and annoying, a buzzing just at the edge of her awareness. She wanted to tell them to be quiet; couldn't they see she wasn't well? All that emerged from her parted lips was a rather pained whimpering sound. The stroking increased, the voices died down, and she gratefully drifted back asleep.

When she regained consciousness again, her senses did not rebel so violently. The throbbing in her head had lessened, and there was a warm blanket pressed tight around her body. She no longer felt sick to her stomach, though she was still afraid to open her eyes; partially because she feared the dizziness would return and send her retching all over the comfortable blanket, and in part because she did not want to know where she was.

She hadn't so much as twitched when she felt her hair being stroked again, deft fingers running through the strands and detangling them gently. It was soothing, and she almost lost herself to the darkness again, but stubbornly she clung to awareness, focusing on her pains. Steeling herself, she opened her eyes.

Her bandages were off. Someone had removed them when she had been unconscious; she had been too disoriented to realize earlier. Panic clung to her even as she blinked, eyes slowly growing accustomed to the glaring brightness of the room. Someone removed her bandages! It couldn't be true, this couldn't be real, she was supposed to take them off herself when she was finally with her onii-chan, so she could watch him duel and win and make her proud! Shivering, she felt strangely violated.

A soft, soothing voice spoke to her in a language she did not recognize. She didn't understand the words, but they had a calming effect on her nonetheless. Without realizing it, she had relaxed, her eyes focusing blankly on a pale blue wall with a lamp flickering restlessly. She still hurt, but the aches seemed distant now, as if from a dream long forgotten, the barest hint of a whisper of pain.

A hand came into view, sun-darkened and strong, and gently brushed her bangs out of her eyes. It shifted to her shoulder and pulled her onto her back, and she found herself staring up into a pair of vivid green eyes. Half of the man's face was covered in scars– or were they tattoos? – and he had a stern yet tender expression on his face.

She had never seen him before in her life.

She opened her mouth to ask a question, any question – who was he, why was she here, where were they, where was her onii-chan, why did she hurt so bad? Shaking his head, he pressed his fingers down on her lips.

"Ssh," he said nearly perfect Japanese. "Don't make a fuss; Malik-sama wouldn't be pleased to be disrupted. Just know you are safe here. We mean you no harm."

The pain in her head said otherwise, but she was in no position to argue.

-

Rishid studied the girl quietly, watching her expression. She looked faintly sullen for a moment, then resigned, and she said nothing. "I am taking care of you," he said in the same soothing tone as before. He was speaking somewhat slowly, as his grasp on the Japanese language was still a little shaky. "Rest easy, for I will not let anything harm you."

She looked faintly skeptical at that. He figured that yes, being kidnapped and bashed over the head would probably make you a little paranoid, even if the person you were currently looking at was taking care of you. _Idiots.__ If I'd known that they were going to treat her that way I never would have left them alone with her..._

"I have to look at your head now, little one," he said, as soothingly as he could. He checked the lump on the back of her head. It was already decreasing in size, which relieved him. And would probably relieve the idiots who harmed her in the first place. If they were still able to feel anything at all.

_Malik-sama gave strict orders that she was not to be harmed. Anything I did to them would pale next to what he would do._

He pulled back to observe her again. She looked so fragile, so weak, so helpless... The urge for him to protect her, to watch over her and make certain that she was never harmed rose in him, and he could not force it down. Malik-sama had given him permission to do whatever liked with the girl, so long as she was not permanently damaged. Rishid had, at the time, wondered why his brother had been snickering when he had said that. Now he understood.

_Anything_...

That was the most tempting thing he had ever been offered. And she was right here... helpless... hurt...

Weak. She was weak and he was strong and he could _force_ her to do anything...

His eyes closed for a moment as he imagined what he _could_ do. He shuddered and bowed his head as tantalizing thoughts of trailing his hands over her body filled his mind. Her skin and hair was so soft, he knew already. She would be so warm, so perfect beneath him, as he would kiss her and take her and listen to her beg him for more... Even if he had to ask Malik-sama to control her, she _would_ beg him for more.

Gods, he had to stop thinking like that... That made him into a monster, into something that should never even look at her... But the temptation was there... and she was so pathetically helpless... It would be so easy just to take what could be considered rightfully his by Malik-sama's orders...

But he wouldn't. He _would never_. He clenched his fists until his nails bit into his hands. The girl obviously noticed this, because she drew away slightly, eyes widening, then shuddered and made a small sound of pain as if moving hurt her.

He calmed himself instantly, imagining himself doused with freezing water. Just that little sound of her pain made him forget about his stupid, selfish desires. Well, not _forget_, but certainly made him able to ignore them long enough to soothe her and shove them to the back of his mind, there to remain until he got to a cold shower.

He reached out to stroke her hair very lightly, careful not to hurt her. "I will not harm you, little one," he soothed. "I promise. I will not harm you, nor will I allow any more harm to befall you, ever. The ones who hurt you are gone now."

It was true, Malik-sama had... interesting ways of punishing those who failed him. Thankfully, he had never been subjected to any of that. And he would make certain that his little charge was never exposed to such things. Her eyes were far too innocent for that.

She was looking up at him, trust warring with suspicion in her eyes. _I have to make her trust me... I have to prove myself to her... I have to do... something..._

He could do any number of things. He could bring her something to eat; he could prove to her the ones who hurt her were punished; he could tell her why she was here…

He chose to lean down and gently press his lips to hers.


End file.
